Duty Before Desire
by luvscharlie
Summary: Arya has returned to Winterfell to care for her people, but it's not where her heart is. Her heart comes wandering in with a smirk and smart ass remark. Gendry/Arya


_Duty Before Desire _by Luvscharlie

_Warnings: Language and a bit of violence if you squint or are uber sensitive to such things_

_A/N: Originally written for the 2011 Winter ASOIAF_Exchange on LJ. Spoilers far past Season 1._

To call it a trip was to cheapen it; it had been so much more than that. A journey? Maybe. Still, it didn't seem there was a word that really did it justice. Arya had been a child when she'd left Winterfell with her father and Sansa in tow. Travelling with them had been men who'd been with her father since long before her oldest brother was even born.

And now, out of all of them—family, friends, bannermen—there was only her. Life had been full of twists, turns and more than a couple of absolute bottoms-out landings, but of all of them, she'd been the only one to remain standing. Or, if there were any others, she'd expect them to make their way back the way she had done: home. And so far, none of them had shown up.

Even after the passage of several years, Arya thought she'd caught a whiff of burned embers several leagues before they approached the gates of Winterfell. Imagined or not, it made her hate Theon Greyjoy with a fresh degree of venom.

And now she was here as the Lady of Winterfell, and the last thing she'd ever wanted to be was a lady. But someone had to do it, and no one had seen Sansa since the night of King Joffrey the Prat's death. Sansa was the one destined for ladydom, not Arya; but again, life didn't always go as planned.

Arya was doing her duty as her father's daughter, when _he_showed up. She was sitting in a chair that had once belonged to her mother, refusing to sit in the one that had been her father's. This one felt more her size, more comfortable and offered up a nice bit of denial. She wasn't nearly so responsible for Father's role if she didn't sit in his chair. She'd grown up a good bit, but some childlike fancy remained.

"Well, I'd heard, but I didn't believe," Gendry said with a shake of his head.

He'd grown quite handsome, or maybe she was only now noticing it. He'd finally filled out the man's frame he'd already had as a boy, and his physique was thick and defined. All muscles. His black hair fell in an unruly mess over his brow and it gave him a roguish appearance. Unfortunately for him, she didn't much care how handsome he'd become or how roguish he looked. She was still pretty bitter about feeling abandoned by him. "Why are you here?" Arya demanded.

"As warm a welcome as I expected," Gendry replied. "I thought you'd have grown up a bit, truth be told. Kind of disappointing." He scratched his head and shrugged.

_How dare he?_She almost climbed down from her mother's regal chair, walked over and kneed him where it counted. Just who the hell was he to insinuate that she'd not grown up. She'd been forced to grow up far too soon. She hadn't been a child in a very long time; what little child remained had died in Braavos.

She took a good, long look at him with eyes that had once been unable to see, yet had given her the ironic ability to look a little deeper. All traces of boyhood were gone. They had both done a good deal of growing up, it seemed, but she was reluctant to admit it after his taunt.

"I asked why you were here. I expect an answer." _Oh good; that sounded all ladylike. Her mother would be proud of the authority in her tone._She sat up a little straighter in the chair and crossed her arms.

"You realize that only makes you look like you're trying far too hard, right?" He paused and then added on a smart ass, "my lady" to the end of the sentence. He gave a little bow, and Arya wished she had been standing behind him at just that moment so she could give him a good kick in the ass and watch with pleasure as he toppled over.

She _was_ a lady. A _calm_ lady of Winterfell. _Breathe, one, two, three. Smile, one two three. Don't let him get under your skin, one, two three._

"You look like you're in pain, or else you need the privy." He smirked.

All semblance of control went right out the window with that smirk. "You get out. Get. Out! Turn yourself around and leave Winterfell the way you came. I don't know why you even bothered to show your face here after the way you abandoned me. You're not welcome here."

"I've come a long way."

"You shouldn't have bothered. You knew you would not be welcome here." Arya nodded to some of her bannermen. "If you would kindly see Mr. Waters to the gate, kind sers."

"Of course, my lady," said a young man that Arya was ashamed to admit she couldn't place in her head. Names escaped her memory these days. There was simply too much to remember when being the Lady of Winterfell.

"Sounds even more ridiculous when he said it than when I did. _My lady_," Gendry scoffed. "You, running a castle. Probably weren't even smart enough to hire yourself a decent blacksmith. Just look at the sword that man's carrying. I believe I'll just sit a bit. Not like he could go and lop my head off with that piece of rubbish." And Gendry found a chair at a nearby table.

Arya couldn't stand it anymore. She jumped down from her mother's chair, and raced down to where Gendry was sitting, grabbed the bannerman's 'rubbish' sword and swung the flat end of the blade so that it collided with Gendry's shoulder, then used her foot to kick him over backwards. He landed flat and smacked his head against the stone floor. The chair clattered loudly.

"Well, that was more the way I expected you to greet me. I'm back in my comfort zone." He chuckled and she felt the need to knee him. She only held back because she noted that everyone in the room was watching them. She was losing their respect by the minute.

"Get up!" she hissed. "We'll take this conversation outside and finish it as you're getting your sorry ass back on your horse and going back the way you came."

"No offer of bread and wine?" Gendry asked with a smile. "You have a lot to learn about this hostess/lady thing."

Arya grabbed him by the ear and as he screamed his "ow's" she dragged him from the room. Gales of laughter followed them out the door, and she thought they must have made quite the sight. He was twice her size, but she had a death grip on his ear. It was either go with her, or have it ripped from his head.

"I hope you're happy. You've embarrassed me in front of people whose respect I've been working hard to garner," Arya spit out when they were safely outside.

"Yeah, how's that going for you? You look like a little girl playing dress up in all the wrong clothes. Where's that girl I used to know? You know, the fierce one who'd rather kick me in the balls than smile sweetly like a polite –ergh (he made a face of disgust)—lady. That word just feels all wrong in my mouth."

"I didn't ask to be the one in charge."

"So, don't be. I came to get you. Look what a hero I am."

Arya had held back as much as she could. She kicked him sharply in the shin.

"Just because you're new at this, I'm going to let that pass. But for future reference, you don't kick heroes who've come to save you from a life of boredom." He rubbed his shin and glared. "Frankly, it's bad manners. Even bastards know that much."

"Stupid head." She'd been the Lady of Winterfell for more than a year, and she'd composed herself with dignity with only a few minor slips, which had gone unnoticed. Gendry Waters came back and in less than an hour she'd resorted to kicking and name calling… and it bloody well felt fabulous. She hadn't felt so alive in ages.

"You're smiling. Looks kind of nice on you. You should do it a little more often."

"There's not much to smile about around here." She didn't know how it happened, but in a few minutes they were walking side by side over the grounds, and talking like old friends. She let her guard down with Gendry, when she couldn't with people she lived with on a daily basis. "I never wanted this life. But I feel like I have to stay; they need me. This is my home."

"This hasn't been your home for a long time. Arya Stark was never meant to be chained to a piece of land."

"These people, they loved my father, and they look to me for some sort of guidance. I owe them that."

"What do you owe yourself, Arya? There's duty and there's desire. Which one will you choose?"

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, and with it the desire to leave with Gendry and seek out an adventure that didn't require a lady's clothes or graces. "Duty. I'll stay where I'm needed until they need me no longer." Every word hurt.

"Guess you'll need a blacksmith that can make some decent armor and swords. Good thing I came along when I did, then."

Arya scoffed. "I don't recall asking you to stay."

"I know, but when you see what I've brought you, you'll be too grateful to tell me to leave."

"Don't count on that, Mr. Full-of-yourself."

He whistled loudly and Nymeria's head poked out of the woods. She came at a run, knocking Arya over and licking her face.

"How did you find her?" Arya asked with a tear stuck in the corner of her eye struggling to break free.

"I didn't. She found me. Seems like the duty of Winterfell called to more than just you." Gendry started to walk away from them. "She led me here."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To kick that farce of a blacksmith you have out of my new house."

"You're impossible."

He never even looked back. "Not the first time I've heard that."


End file.
